Arda Reforged
by Moonraykir
Summary: After time and Arda have ended, a dwarf could have no greater happiness than the task of building a second world with the help of his kin. Yet for Kili, full happiness waits on the return of an elf...


Fíli found this the best work he had ever done: shaping mountains, delving riverbeds, cutting the deep fjords in the north, smoothing the gently sloping plains to the south.

It was the One's work, for which Fíli and all his dwarf brothers had been born, and it made him happy.

His father was with him, his uncle, his brother, and many more relatives whose time in the Arda-That-Was had been long over before he had been born. Fíli had even met the great Durin himself. It had been a great honor, all the more so because Durin hadn't set himself above any of his descendants, but welcomed them as his equals.

Fíli knew his brother was happy, too, but he could see that Kíli clearly waited.

On the day the first elves had been seen wandering through the unfinished lands, Kíli had been visibly delighted, and he'd spent many of the years since then in their company, preparing the land for their plantings, the trees and herbs that were quickly making this new world alive and beautiful. (Kíli had had quite a few suggestions of his own for green places, planned with one particular elf in mind.) The other dwarves often joined him—yes, even Thorin—for the old animosities were done and long forgotten.

Fíli was with the elves today, digging holes for a series of saplings on the soft western slopes of the foothills. The task wasn't very creatively challenging, but he found it pleasant, nonetheless, to exert himself in wholesome labor, particularly since the work was in the service of others.

He was just starting on another hole where the elves had marked out the place on the grass when he heard distant shouts of greeting. The elves who were to bring the rest of the saplings must have arrived. Fíli paused in his digging to watch them. He really liked the joyful greetings that were becoming so common these days, as more of the Allfather's children woke to the new Arda. Often, long-sundered friends found each other again for the first time, and these meetings were his favorite to see.

Kíli, who was wheeling a barrow filled with soil, had also stopped to watch. His stance was idly relaxed at first but then Fíli saw a thrill of tension run through him. Fíli looked back to the group of elves.

Yes, there was one whom he might recognize, a woman with flowing copper hair.

* * *

Tauriel was setting down a bundled sapling when she heard a shout behind her.

It was a dwarven voice.

For a moment, her heart stopped—all time stopped—and then her pulse pounded as if eager to make up the time, not just of that frozen moment, but for all the years she had spent waiting for it.

She turned, and Kíli was already running towards her.

A few swift strides of her own closed the space between them.

They collided, his head meeting her heart and knocking the breath from her lungs. It was wonderful, as it always had been, to be breathless in his arms.

He looked up at her, and Tauriel felt she would surely die at the joy in his face.

"Tauriel, _amrâlimê_ ," he said.

" _Meleth nîn_..."

She could not be sure if they were her tears or his that wet his upturned face. She drew her fingers over his rough cheek: of all the things she had dearly missed over the years, the feel of his bearded face was what she had thought of the most.

"You never grew your beard," she remarked. The trimmed beard, she understood, was a sign of waiting, of unfulfillment.

Kíli nodded, knowing she knew the reason without his explanation.

"I was waiting for you. But I forgot," he shrugged, as if the idea had only just now occurred to him, "that you liked seeing my face."

"And truly, I have never seen a fairer sight in all my life than your face now."

As Kíli caught her round the neck and drew her down to kiss him, Tauriel dimly noticed a cheer go up around them.

Kíli simply smiled at her for a few moments after he released her. Finally, he said, "You taught me to plant trees once, but that was a long time ago. You'd better make sure I'm still doing it right."

Tauriel nodded, and he took her hand and drew her with him back to their work.

* * *

Author's note:

I wrote this months ago, with the idea of saving it as an epilogue for _A Gift of Fire_ , but then I started a second AU fic that this could fit, as well. I really like it as a stand alone, "apply to your Kiliel story of choice" kind of piece, so I'm publishing it separately.

Anyway, I really love the dwarves' belief that they will be given the task of reforging, as it were, the new Arda. I think the idea is something of a hint at the way that crafting and subcreation (two activities that have caused _major_ problems throughout the history of Middle Earth) will finally be redeemed from greed and possessiveness.

Tolkien's eschatology is really vague, so we can't know much for certain about the second Arda, but I've put together my best guess by looking at hints we do have and then adding a good dash of hopeful romanticism. Tolkien has basically said nobody knows what happens to the elves after the end of the world, but my theory is that if their lives are tied to Arda, then they will certainly have a place in an Arda remade and healed. Also, while the case of Beren and Luthien might suggest that, after death, an elvish soul and a mortal soul would be separated eternally, I'm also not quite ready to assume this is true. I find it difficult to posit that Eru would intend for those who have loved to be forever parted. I think that the loooong separation experienced by the lovers' souls as they wait to be reunited at the end (or rather new beginning) of all things could be cause for the grief such a mixed-mortality relationship represents.


End file.
